


my heart is heavy, as a sky full of rain

by firewhiskeydays



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bittersweet, Drabble, F/M, amy has a bit of an existential crisis, no specific timestamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 04:01:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firewhiskeydays/pseuds/firewhiskeydays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We're all stories in the end (so lets try and make ours the best)</p>
            </blockquote>





	my heart is heavy, as a sky full of rain

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to make it sexy but then it didn't seem right. Title was from a song i think but i cant find which one oops

As they sit perched together on a lonely bench in a play park in 1967, she wonders, as she does sometimes, why he even bothers with her. All she's ever known is the Doctor; her raggedy man, but he's known so much more. He's seen the beginnings of planets, and he's had to watch his own burn. He's lived long enough to see the birth of children and watch as they become parents and grandparents, and then see all of them into their graves.

She's an inconsequential blip in his life; one star in a whole constellation; a single word in an entire novel.

One day she'll be old and grey and one day she'll die, and he'll still be traveling the galaxy with the same face (or maybe a new one if she's around long enough), and when that day comes he'll have to move on somehow (though she knows he'll never forget her. Oh no, the Doctor never forgets a face), and there'll be someone new to fill the void that lies in his two hearts (but all she can think about in this moment is that it won't be her).

_What will you do when I'm gone?_ She asks.

_Have a party, probably._ He replies teasingly.

She slaps him for that, grinning. But she has to know.

_Well,_ he begins,  _I expect that I would be sad for a rather long time, and that for a while I'd just float around in that old blue box of mine with no particular destination in mind; and I expect that I wouldn't want to visit the TARDIS library for years because it was your favourite place, but that I would anyway every single day just to imagine that I could hear your laugh from three bookshelves down as you find a story that doesn't even exist in your stratosphere. And I think that sometimes my fingers would itch to feel your skin or to brush back your hair, and that my arms would ache just to hold you one more time._  
 _But I think- I think - that after a while (years and years, mind you- I never forget a face), I would be okay. Eventually. Probably. One day._   _I'd be okay. I'll never forget you, though. I'll never forget the amazing story of Amelia Pond_ ,  _because you know what? It's been the best._

(I think so too, you beautiful madman. I couldn't imagine a life where I wasn't by your side).


End file.
